Phantom of the Library - Lidiya Foxglove Page 0,12

“I am its guardian. Pandora’s Box? Is that what your people call it? It is more properly known as the Way of the Paths.” He brought it over to me and pointed at each of them. “This is Sinistral…Wyrd…and Etherium, the realm of your magic, my lady.”

“I see…” That made sense. Pandora’s Box must be more of a later code name to indicate that putting the maps together would open up a can of worms. “So they are all maps of the realms.”

“Yes. They are all separate but joined, as you see. Each touches the other two. If you look closely in the dark, you’ll see that there are thousands of lights. Millions, even. Every person in every realm has a light, some very dim, some bright, based on their power. Most are still, some are moving…and sometimes you can see them cross from one realm to the other.”

I stared at the map for a long moment because it was, to put it lightly, incredible. The stones that formed the map were dark and glossy, like some alien artifact, and just like the night sky, the longer I looked, the more lights I could see.

“Do I have a light?”

“Of course. You and I are here now.” He tapped the tip of the pyramid. “In the place between realms. This is my duty as a demigod. Simply to watch over the realms.”

“You don’t actually do anything?”

He grinned. “Now and then, I am needed to move souls between realms. I can cause angels to fall into darkness and demons to be banished into the world of order. If a day should ever come when the realms erupt into a war, I have the ability to separate the realms. Like pulling apart squabbling children. Only, the consequences would be much more devastating.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I hope you know that.”

“Why would you think otherwise?”

“I hear rumors,” he said. “I’m sure you know.”

“I must confess that sometimes I do, but I try my best to ignore them,” I said. This was probably what Hulda’s mean old mom was talking about. The Ethereal wizards were hoping to break their piece off from the others.

“Magic, like the people who use its gifts, are stronger when they can communicate,” Lord Abiron said. “I love to watch the lights that move and know that each one of them is a life dancing along the fabric of the universe.”

“Is my familiar one of these lights too?”

“Your familiar? I didn’t know you had a familiar…?” He was looking at me so oddly that I didn’t know what to say.

Did witches not have familiars in the 11th century? I had always thought all wizards had familiars since ancient times. Or did Hulda’s familiar die? Maybe familiars just died young more often at this time.

“Uh…maybe I don’t,” I blurted.

“I was told no one in Cyprium kept a familiar. Now you tell me you have indulged in this slavery after all?”

Oh shit. This was not a modern view of familiars, and I didn’t expect his reaction. “No, no,” I said.

Now Lord Abiron definitely knew something was up. “Who are you…really?”

“Uhhh…”

“Something is wrong.” He started to look a little angry.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Good lord. What to say?

“Who are you?” He gave my shoulders a little shake.

“I’m from the future!” I cried. “I’m—I’m possessing Hulda’s body for a second. You sent me to help past you!” I paused. “I know this sounds pretty ridiculous…”

“I sent you to help myself…to what end?”

“They’re going to kill you and break up the box—I mean, the Way of Paths.”

“Kill me…” He laughed sharply. “I can’t say I didn’t consider it. How far in the future do you hail from?”

“A long time. A thousand years… It seems like you were reborn much later, and then you were killed again, and your ghost and me…met, and…”

“I see. Are you meant to stop it?”

“I hope so!”

He looked at me and slowly he seemed to accept a darker truth. “No…that would be too drastic an outcome for the future, and you would not be able to turn back and undo it. This death must be written into fate already. I see. So you and I…this is not a beginning, then. This is my end.”

I couldn’t bear the dawning realization on his face, the sorrow and courage that reminded me even more of my Byron. There was always something bittersweet in Byron’s face.

“Hulda was supposed to poison you,” I said. “But I can’t do it. And I am not really sure Hulda wanted